In My Secret Life
by ChameleonCircuits
Summary: Chapter One: While investigating the strange coincidences between five abducted children, Sarah is forced to return to Aberdeen.
1. Don't Think Twice, It's Alright

**My first ever piece of fanfic. English isn't my first language so I apologize in advance for any possible grammatical errors I might have commited. Tips and criticism are always welcome.**

**Chapter One: While investigating the strange coincidences between five abducted children, Sarah is forced to return to Aberdeen and looks back on the last time she was there.**

**I have to give credit to the show 'Lost' for the story structure used in this fic - using seemingly meaningless places, objects, sounds or words as a catalyst for flashbacks.**

**Just Sarah in this chapter but Four WILL eventually show up.**

**Warning: M for future content. Also, lots of fluffiness and romance intermingled with actual plot.**

**Just a tryout. If people like it, I'll certainly continue.**

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><p><em><strong>London to Aberdeen, 2003.<strong>_

Having witnessed firsthand how easy it was to convince the public to buy into whatever it was one might have wanted them to believe, Sarah Jane Smith had learned to be mindful of rumors.

With decades of investigative journalistic experience under her belt, taking everything that was heard through the grapevine with more than just the proverbial pinch of salt had become habitual. It was something she took pride in.

It wasn't an issue of not believing. She had _seen _the incredible. Had travelled there in a blue box. To her, the unthinkable was nothing less than stone cold fact.

Bittersweet memories which, if she was entirely honest, had dictated the course of her life for a very long time.

However… It had been over 25 years since she had witnessed anything even remotely extraterrestrial. When she was younger she had chased several stories like this one down dead end streets. Not so much out of ambition as out of an all consuming need to see him again.

To know that he remembered. That she had mattered. Just to hear that voice one more time. She had kept on hoping for years.

But time and time again, all she had seen were people trying to make a profit out of elaborate hoaxes or utilising the wrath of whatever god or alien it was that would mask their own insanity the best. She thought she was long done with all of it. She knew what was out there and it was enough.

And yet, despite having promised herself to steer clear years prior, here she was again. Ready to board a train and chase the smoke to decide for herself whether or not there was a fire.

She couldn't quite explain why but a feeling deep in her gut had made her latch on to this particular story and she was determined, beyond anything else, to find out the truth. On of it's biggest mysteries being why the world press hadn't jumped onto it like a pack of hungry hyenas. It was baffling to say the least.

Three days earlier, a short article on the internet had caught her immediate attention. Five different children from five different cities in the UK and Europe - all of whom had gone missing during the last few months - had miraculously shown up without so much as a bruise or headache. All on the same night.

A happy ending by all means, if it hadn't been for the horrifying coincidence that all five of them had gone blind during the days following their reappearance. That wasn't the only strange thing either.

All five children claimed they had gone to sleep the night before and had woken up in their own beds the next morning. The usual morning grumpiness. The usual reluctance to attend school. To them, one night had passed. For their families and the rest of the world months had gone by. Imagine the shock seeing your child sit down at the breakfast table as if nothing had happened.

With the scientific community baffled, mostly at their own inability to solve the matter, the whole debacle had been discarded as a tasteless prank by most outsiders, something she could certainly understand.

Still, she thought she would have a learned her lesson by now. Apparently not. No, this one was different. Five children. Five cities. Oslo, Rennes, Lisbon, Cork and Aberdeen. Same story. Even K9 had told her it was beyond mathematical coincidence. There was no proof all of this meant anything but if even the tin dog couldn't explain it away by mere rational, scientific means perhaps it was worth investigating.

Mind you, he had of course added an expected 'Not enough data available' , as if to somehow excuse his lack of satisfactory answers.

With her car in repair and her ticket in hand, she entered the train set for Aberdeen. Quietly strolling through a few compartments, she looked around, growing slightly nervous at the amount of people in there.

A slight smile crept on her face as she spotted a seat somewhere in the farthest corner. Empty.

Struggling to place her bag in the overhead rack, a confident voice behind her suddenly interrupted.

'Let me help you with that, miss.'

Slightly startled, she turned around to face two impeccably dressed men. Late twenties, early thirties. Businessmen, no doubt. she allowed the man that spoke to her to help her while his friend smiled at her with calculated charm. A gleam in his eye that chilled her to the bone. She still turned heads and she knew it. Unfortunately they tended to be the heads of the dullest of men at the worst of times.

'Do you mind if my colleague and I sit here ?' he asked while pointing at the seat directly opposite hers.

She wanted to say yes. 'You bet I mind, you little sleaze.'

'Of course not. Why should I mind?', she smiled rather shyly.

After nearly an hour of politely going and back and fourth, the conversation had come to an uncomfortable halt. To her own surprise, she hadn't mind the talk. It had kept her from thinking the obvious. Kept her from remembering where she was going.

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><p><em><strong>Aberdeen to London, 1976.<strong>_

Staring absently through the foggy train window, Sarah Jane Smith's thoughts were hardly preoccupied with the rapidly passing Scottish countryside or the oncoming storm looming behind one of it's rugged highland plateaus.

Any other day she would have been entranced by it's overwhelming beauty. Any other day and she might have felt compelled to abandon the train altogether. To see. Taste. Touch. Experience whatever it was this place in space and time had to offer a traveler.

Not today. Not alone.

Her eyes wandered to the plush owl thrown carelessly in the opposite seat. Next to it stood the flower handpicked by the Doctor from this very earth. An earth thousands of years into the future. Long after all of this would be torn to pieces by super solar flares. Destroyed, abandoned by mankind and then reborn again. Ready and willing to start anew.

Seated across the aisle from her, a kind looking middle aged man had been shamelessly treating his fellow passengers to a snore concerto ever since they had left Aberdeen just over an hour ago. After a few less than subtle sighs of annoyance from certain passengers in the car, everyone had gotten used to the seemingly never-ending 'buzz' emanating from right beside the young reporter.

It hadn't bothered her once. If the simple act of snoring could have provided her the tiniest amount of comfort, she would have gladly done so herself.

Glancing sideways, a faint smile appeared on the young journalist's lips as she watched how a few stray hairs on either side of his graying moustache fluttered upwards enthusiastically every time he loudly exhaled. His lips vibrating. He looked familiar somehow. Someone she knew ?

That thought barely had time to sink in before Sarah found herself overwhelmed by memories of her time with the Doctor. One of those memories concerned the tragic fate of poor Laurence Scarman. So proud of his radio telescope. Her smile was replaced by wistful melancholy as she looked at the snoozing man once again. Yes. One could have easily mistaken them for brothers.

Sarah sighed deeply. Were she and the Doctor to blame for his death? He had only wanted to help and was murdered by his own blood as a direct consequence of their meddling. Perhaps they were partially responsible for all the people who had met their demise in their presence. She had often wondered how the Doctor coped with the constant loss of life that surrounded him and that day he had more or less given her an answer. Just not the kind she had expected or rather, hoped for.

He had rolled Scarman 's limp body aside like a second hand rug before quickly returning his attention to the matter at hand - the wheels in his mind spinning away at breakneck speed, just like they always had. Just like they always would. How could he have been so callous?

If the loss of a life wasn't able to distress him even in the slightest, then why did he bother in the first place? No. She couldn't believe he didn't care. Even if Scarman had been just one more insignificant earthling. In the greater scheme of things it was merely a tradeoff. Perhaps that's how the Doctor saw it. One life in order to protect the whole world.

She had to believe he cared about every single one of them and that his offhandedness was just the alien's way of protecting himself and therefore protecting the universe. After all, if he didn't get the job done, who would?

She knew all too well he wasn't human. It was something that neither he or anyone else ever allowed her to forget, no matter how close she was to doing so on occasion. She wasn't sure when or how it happened but every feeling that had always been clear and simple with his previous incarnation had grown and expanded into something which was so difficult to define with this new version. Man. Alien.

That eccentric genius who's mad and wonderful spirit was aptly reflected in the wild nest of curls on his head. That joyous and gentle loon who made her feel like she was the most important thing in the universe to him. Well, next to his 'old girl' and the beloved scarf of course, as she would never dream of coming between that particular trio. Amused by her own thoughts and toying with her damp hair, she was suddenly struck by an inexplicable yet horrible sense of impending doom.

'Damn you, Doctor. So many things I wanted to tell you', she whispered to herself. 'What if we never see each other… Stop it, Sarah!' She had to stop thinking like that.

Growing increasingly restless, she re-positioned herself in her seat and began biting her fingernails; something she hadn't done since she was ten. Lavinia hated it witch a rather comical passion and the few times she had done so in her presence, her aunt had groaned loudly and shared eerie stories of children who had entire hands growing in their stomach as a consequence of nibbling on their nails.

A nervous chuckle escaped her throat. Such a random memory.

'Silly girl. He's probably standing in front of your door right now. Annoyed and grumpy wondering why it's taking you so long to open it.

A wide smile slowly crept onto her features as she contemplated how he would be growing more impatient and childish with every passing minute. Eventually he would find some part of the Tardis to 'improve', whether it was working perfectly or not. In fact he'd probably break it in the very process of improvement and they would be forced to travel to some seedy dark planet for spare parts.

The last time they did that, the Doctor had gotten so sloshed he lost all but his clothes during some

Little known inter-galactic card-game on Zontax 7, or as the Doctor had gleefully described it: The 'garage' of the universe. Nothing but Spaceport after workshop after bar. A post-apocalyptic Wild West.

He had even tried to liven up the game by adding her into the mix as a 'deal sweetener' when there was nothing left in his pockets to bet.

By the time her furious slap had caused his chair to topple over and his hat to fly halfway across the sordid establishment, she was already approaching the exit. She had heard him scramble to his feet while stuttering what could have been interpreted as some kind of apology but had refused to give in to the sudden sweet talk.

'As soon as we leave - That is IF we are even able to - You're going to take me home ! I've had it !'

After a determined march back to the Tardis, she had been able to isolate herself in her room for at least a good two hours before slowly wandering back to console room where she found a sober Doctor already planning their next destination. And it wasn't earth.

He had looked at her with pained blue eyes and 'sorry' on the tip of his tongue.

'Sarah, I… ' He looked so ashamed. A tiny part of her thought it was adorable. 'Look at him. Big man.' The other part of her felt too sorry to let him grovel. The last thing she wanted to do was play ego games and chase him away.

A nod of understanding on her part and that was it. The widest of grins plastered on his face. Childlike excitement and happiness in his big blue eyes. Enough to convince herself she would never leave his side.

'I hope it's not raining in Croydon or he'll go mad', Sarah thought while simultaneously looking at the grey clouds hovering above the Scottish countryside.

What was it between them? He was a 750 year old Timelord from another galaxy with an infinitely superior intellect to her own. She was a 26 year old human from Croydon. To her, the years they had spent together seemed to be the only ones that mattered and made her who she was right now. A stronger, wiser, albeit crazier Sarah Jane Smith. To him however, their time together must have seemed like nothing more than the blink of an eye.

Their differences were undeniable. But equally undeniable was the profound friendship and unspoken affection between them. Not to mention the array of other feelings she had felt towards him on more than one occasion during these last 2 years.

An intricate web of emotions someone with her practically non-existent romantic experience couldn't even begin to untangle. Even if she could, would she even want to ? She _liked _it. It made her feel more alive than ever before.

She may have never been an expert in matters of the heart but she was all too aware of the effect he'd had on her ever since he had changed and matters had only gotten more complicated after Harry left.

As much as he pretended to be annoyed by Harry, he had grown fond of him as well. And yet, it was only after he had stayed behind that the Doctor seemed to come into his own around her. Ever so carefully testing the possibilities and boundaries between them. His previous aloofness with Harry around had given way to an effortless and wonderful ease. A playful and caring tenderness that had become all too easy - and admittedly pleasant - to confuse as romantic in nature. Perhaps she was just imagining things.

If she was, she had good reason.

After landing on Zeta Minor he had looked at her with such adoration she still wondered how she had been able to keep herself from floating right off that infernal planet. Searching desperately for words to ease the heavenly but awkward tension between them, she had deviated their focus away from each other and onto an object the Doctor had found. Sarah cursed herself. 'You dolt. You just had to bring up that sodding piece of hardware, didn't you? If you ever had momentum on your side.'

'For goodness sake, girl. What are you? Fifteen?' Once again she twisted nervously in her seat and turned her head towards the man next to her. A petty effort to redirect her thoughts.

'Perhaps if we had sent Scarman away in time.' She whispered to herself. So many lives they couldn't save. Her mind was all over the place. As soon as she felt the first prick of imminent tears in the corner of her eyes, she desperately tried to console herself by the memory of those they _had_ been able to help. Vira, Sorenson, Giuliano. They had succeeded in averting the Dalek's evolution and had prevented earth and all of humanity from being consumed by the Krynoid. 'That's not too shabby, old girl. Not too shabby at all.'

Still the tears came flooding down, accompanied by a sick feeling in her gut. And why exactly? For them? For all the things she saw and would probably see in nightmares for years to come? For Him? 'Maybe it's better if you never set foot inside of that Tardis again', she mused while wiping away the tears with her red sleeve. Talk. That's what they needed to do. Have a long talk.

Glancing at her watch, sound of raindrops tapping against the windows around her slowly increased in volume and provided the train with soothing background music. Four o'clock. A deep and low sigh once again escaped her lips. She'd be lucky if she'd make it back to Croydon by midnight. She was tired. So very tired. With the train on course for London, Sarah Jane Smith closed her heavy eyes and slowly drifted into a deep slumber.


	2. Forever After Days

**Decided to continue this one. Sorry it took so long to update. Should be quicker in the future.  
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**I hope these 'flashes' aren't confusing to read.**

**Sarah arrives in Aberdeen to talk to the family of one of the abducted children.  
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**Aberdeen, 2003.**

Whilst waiting patiently for Mrs. Morrison to emerge from the kitchen with tea and biscuits, Sarah had quietly observed some of the family photos on the walls of the tiny sitting room. It was the usual generic display of family members which conveyed absolutely nothing about the people in them.

It was the camp wallpaper which had claimed her attention however , as she had spent most of the time transfixed by the array of colorful begonias it depicted. A guilty chuckle escaped her throat as she decided 'Epileptic Seizure 79' was probably the collection it came from.

The arrogance. Since when did she start caring about or judging people based on such trivial things ? Especially considering how welcoming the woman had been. 'Too much time on earth', she mused. In all of creation, this place in particular seemed to have a nasty habit of messing with one's priorities.

Still, the gaudy colors had caused Sarah to feel uncomfortable and claustrophobic from the moment she walked in.

After being informed that the person she had wanted to talk to was absent - that being the son, Connor - she had contemplated immediate escape, telling the lady of the house not to bother with refreshments on her part as well as adding a few neglectable excuses as Mrs. Morrison tried to convince her into having a cup of tea.

'I really should be going. I've just arrived. Rather tired.' But still the woman had insisted.

Sarah liked her immediately. Not so much because of her urgency to feed the complete stranger in her house but because of her complete lack of wariness once that stranger had divulged her profession and intentions. Sarah was well used to the word 'journalist' filling people with immediate apprehension, as if being a reporter had provided her with the supernatural ability to read their thoughts.

She smiled politely as Mrs. Morrison appeared in the doorway with a tray supporting tea, cups, plates and what seemed like the contents of half a bakery in her hands. Immediately noticing the floral patterned dinner service - begonias again -, she could have collapsed with laughter.

'What on earth is wrong with me?' She wondered.

Trying to maintain some level of class, she decided to forgo the giggles and settled on the universal custom of showing appreciation for her host instead.

'Mrs. Morrison, that's too kind, really.'

'I'm sorry Connor isn't here, Miss Smith. Ever since he returned it's been nothing but trips to the hospital. I've lost count as to just how many times they've scanned and examined him since.'

'Must be a challenge for your family.'

'Yes, Miss. Smith, it is. We've hardly had the opportunity to spend time together. The last thing any parent wants is to see their child be converted into a lab rat by complete strangers.

'How is Connor doing, Mrs. Morrison ?

Sarah watched how the woman's hands quivered as she poured them two cups of the steamy hot beverage, sat down and looked at the portraits on her walls as if they were foreign objects. A stranger in her own home.

'If you don't mind my asking.' Sarah added. Partly out of genuine concern but mostly just to ease the sudden tension.

The woman smiled politely. Though it was obvious she didn't appreciate the constant platitudes Sarah was throwing out.

'Oh, just peachy.'

The hint of sudden anger and sarcasm in the woman's voice slightly took Sarah by surprise. All she could manage was a sheepish nod whilst reaching for her tea.

'Quite right.' Sarah murmured whilst introducing her lips to the blazing hot cup.

Mrs. Morrison closed her eyes and shook her head. Getting up from the sofa she reached for the plates and carefully placed a piece of cake on both of them.

'I'm sorry Miss. Smith. I've been no good company ever since he was taken from me.'

Sarah tried to understand the woman's reasoning. While it certainly hadn't been the type of ordeal one could get over in a few days, her son was back now. Surely that should have given her some peace of mind.

'He still believes it could pass at any second since that's how it began. He's hopeful.'

'That's always a good thing to be.' Sarah interjected with a smile. 'Isn't it?'

'My son was gone for eight months, Miss Smith. He vanished.'

She hesitated momentarily, as if she was telling herself to stop before she would fall apart. After a brief silence, she continued.

'He'd watched the football with his dad and went to bed in a foul mood because they'd lost. Didn't kiss me goodnight. By morning he was gone. Just like that. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To spend months not knowing whether that person you love is dead or alive? Whether it was you they ran away from or something else entirely. You start seeing things… Random people on busses suddenly remind you of him. Nearly everything you see or hear somehow relates to him. And people around you… Your own family no less, trying to imply that you need to get on with your life.'

She chuckled loudly.

'Getting on… As if that's possible. If anything, one has to…'

'Start anew.' Sarah interjected.

'Yes.'

Mrs. Morrison and Sarah nodded in agreement. She could have said something but quickly re-considered. It seemed silly to even think about it or make comparisons…This woman had lived with the notion of her only child being dead.

'There is no moving on with your life after something like that, Miss Smith. Not until one has closure.'

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><p><strong>South Croydon, 1977<strong>

'Sarah, darling you can't wear that to the party.'

Shifting from her own reflection in the mirror to the older woman in the doorway, she mildly feigned curiosity. Judging by the condemnation of her black trouser suit in her eyes, Sarah already knew the reply she would get from her aunt but decided to ask anyway.

'Really, and why is that?'

'It's a birthday, love. Not a funeral. Happy occasion, remember?'

A loud sigh escaped her lips as Sarah attempted to stare down the older woman in her bedroom.

'I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself, thank you.'

'If the intention is to scare everyone off, then yes, you certainly are. Darling, do try yourself just this once. And if not, plaster on a fake smile… for Henry's sake.'

'His name is Harry.'

As she turned back to face the mirror, she could still feel her aunts eyes burn holes into her back. She didn't need this. Didn't need reminding of the party she would be attending when all she wanted to do was curl up on her bed with a book or some music. Anything… Just as long as it meant escape.

Putting the final touches to her make-up, she kept observing her aunt in the corner of the mirror. Her arms were folded. Ready to debate.

'I like Henry. He's a talented doctor from what I've heard. Why did you two never…'

'His name is Harry, aunt. He's a friend. We went through a lot together but…'

'Well, all the more reason to…'

Slamming down her lipstick with a sharp clang, she reached for a brush and started violently combing her chestnut hair.

'But that's all.' she interrupted back.

'Besides, he's got a lovely girlfriend and I couldn't be happier for them. He needs someone to take care of him. To tie his shoelaces and put the kettle on. In other words, anyone but me. Marianne fits that bill perfectly.'

'Careful with that comb, darling. You'll give yourself a headache.'

Lavinia smiled at seeing her niece so agitated by her little interrogation. She had raised her to be strong and independent but she was all too aware Sarah was also very fragile. Too fragile to have to pretend she didn't need anyone.

After her niece had returned from her travels, Lavinia had hardly recognized her. She was certainly braver. Even cleverer perhaps. Most importantly, she had regained her childlike enthusiasm for the little things in life, something which had seemingly gone missing in her early twenties and had been replaced by a professionalism that was admirable yet distressing for someone so young.

Those first few weeks she saw her niece being happier than ever before. It was wonderful and contagious. She was convinced it had something to with a man and couldn't wait to lay eyes on the man who was responsible for this sudden burst of joy in her niece .

As more weeks went by, she noticed Sarah getting more and more anxious. Occasionally muted sobs could be heard coming from her bedroom. It broke her heart and slowly but surely, rather than thank him, she wished she could smack the taste out of this monster's mouth.

But whatever had happened to her, she needed to get her life back on the rails. She was doing fine professionally and no one would have guessed something might be wrong just looking at her. Perhaps that's why it was so unsettling.

'Quite right. I know it's not my place to interfere in anyway.'

'But you're still going to?'

'I mean it, Sarah. Whatever happened, it's been over a year. You have to let go, sweetheart.'

Once again Sarah turned to face her aunt. More hesitant to speak this time. She suddenly looked as if she had the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders.

'What if I don't want to let go? What if it's the only thing that has ever truly made me happy ?'

Closing the distance between, she pulled her niece in for a hug. Lavinia smiled.

'Good Lord. He must be quite the kettle of fish.'

Sarah gave her aunt a puzzled look, doing her outmost to pretend she hadn't the faintest idea of what the older woman was talking about.

'Please, Sarah. I'm not a fool. He broke your heart, didn't he?'

'It's a little bit more complicated than that, aunt.'

'Well, however complicated it may be, no man is worth _this_.'

Looking at her attire, Sarah couldn't help but chuckle.

'I do look like an undertaker, don't I Perhaps I should change into something a little more cheerful.'

'Like I said, no man is worth this.'

Sarah glanced at herself in the mirror and nodded sheepishly.

'Alright then, I'll leave you to it.' her aunt said casually while leaving the room. Two seconds passed before she walked in again. 'Oh and Sarah ?'

'Mm ?'

'I know you might rather keep certain feelings to yourself but when you're ready to talk about… _him… _or whatever it might be. I'm right here.'

Sarah smiled. A genuine smile this time.

'I might just take you up on that.'


End file.
